Come and See Me Again
by Lady Talla-doe
Summary: When life threw Loki at him, landing them both in Medical for an extended time, Stark was sorely tempted to take those metaphorical lemons, and shove them down Life's throat. As this is not an option, they'll just have to get along.
1. Life's Lemons

**I think I have a Hurt!*_anyone_* kink. And I had far too much fun beating up Tony. Fair warning; I know very little about the original avengers, so this fiction will probably **_**not**_** be within cannon. I'll try not to offend too many people with my lack of knowledge. **

**(This fiction is for MaverikFlame, who fed my addiction, so I'm feeding hers.)**

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><p><em><strong>Come and see me again<strong>__**.**_

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><p>"Goddamn, Warbird, mo -<em>NGHH!<em>" Ironman grit his teeth to keep from biting off his tongue as the what-ever-the-fuck-it-was smacked him out of the air, sending him into the pavement ten stories below. It broke on impact, cracking just under his shoulders, ragged chunks of concrete jutting up around his body in crooked angles. He laid there for a moment, focusing on breathing, as his vision dimmed for a moment,the fight above him sounding far more distant then a few hundred feet. It was several long moments before the roaring in his ears died down, and his eyes focused. From the pounding in his skull as he rolled over – a pounding that transformed into stabbing pain behind his left eye as he stood- the creepy demented octopus-thingy had been about ten pounds of force from cracking his skull. It had managed a rather impressive concussion, though, from the feel of it.

Tony staggered sideways as ground shook, then tilted at an alarming angle as his head throbbed, blurring his vision. An unwitting vision of Pepper telling him off for flying while drunk prompted a completely inappropriate laugh.

_Shit, I think it hit me harder than I thought..._ Tony staggered back upright, clutching at the side of a flipped car to keep himself upright, free hand cradling his helmet. The world pulsed twice, before the world sent something hurdling at his head at thirty miles an hour.

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><p>"<em>Go<em>... _d-dammit,_" Tony rasped, retracting his faceplate to suck deep breaths of the chilly, dusty air. The cold served to wake him up a little, chasing away the threatening lethargy of unconsciousness.

_Bad Tony_, he chided himself absently_, sleeping with a concussion... Pepper... Pepper will kill you..._ his laughter was a little bit wheezy, but the burning in his chest said fractured rip, not punctured lung, so he'd put that one to getting hit in the face twice in as many minutes. Grimacing, he pushed himself up just enough to lean against a chunk of what looked like an office building, and turned his attention to the person lying across his legs. Or he would have, had the movement not caused a wet crack in his chest, as the fracture turned into a true break, poking painfully at something inside him. White chased black, and Tony slumped back against the broken building, a battered red and gold streak against the broken grey landscape.

Fragments of voices, scratching at his ears between the comforting high pitched ringing. He went to drift back into the comfort of unconsciousness, but the nagging voice at the back of his mind that sounded like Pepper kept him from drifting off. It took more will then he was comfortable admitting to to force his eye lids apart, staring at the blurry patches of colour with detached interest. A streak of black interrupted by red, and capped with something yellow leaned in, smacking the larger red-and-blue-and-silver blur beside it.

"-think... he's –ake..." Tony blinked, brows drawing toward his nose as he frowned up at the black-red-yellow thing. What was it saying? The blue-red-silver blur leaned in closer, resolving into Captain America. His lips were moving, speaking- Tony was sure of that- but there wasn't any sound. He grunted, turning his face away from the hand that reached for it; it hesitated, then Steve repeated himself, slower this time. Tony frowned again, focusing hard on the words.

"-lright. Just don't sleep, okay? We'll take car-" He nodded distractedly to his words, passing out for a second time half way through his third nod.

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><p><em>Beep. Beep. Beep.<em>

"Nrghhh." The sound didn't go away. Scrunching up his face, Tony turned his face from the noise, but it refused to do the polite thing and go away. In fact, the infuriating thing got louder. _Goddammit_. He opened his eyes, glaring up at the curtain separating his bed from the one beside him.

Hospital wing. He'd know the sterilized, irritatingly dry smell anywhere. Which made the beeping... blue eyes narrowed as he rolled his head across the pillow, glaring half heartedly at the machine beside his bed.

...the vitals monitor. There was another vitals monitor nearby, it's beeping quieter, the heart beat count slower. So, his roommate was sleeping, then. No help, there. _Damn._ Would have been nice to have someone explain things, instead of making him trust his patchy memory. He shifted, wincing as his head and chest throbbed in unison. A line of dulled fire down his chest, with fainter prickles of stitches, and a sharper pain in the back of his skull, and behind one eye. Moving carefully, Tony used his right hand to lift the neck of his gown, peering down at the angry red line bisected by black stitches.

Well, it was good to know he hadn't hallucinated the punctured lung, then. Because, if he was going to remember the pain, it might as bloody well _be_ for something. Looked like it'd be a pretty impressive scar; it'd make a good story: the time he took a blow meant for Warbird from a weird purple fourteen story octopus thing.

Okay.

So maybe the story would need a bit of work. He bit back a hiss as he pushed himself up until he was reclining in the pillows. If he was very careful, he could _just_ reach the curtain... his fingers brushed the pale green fabric just as the door opened. He dropped back into the pillows, trying to look like he'd been doing nothing as the Captain walked across the broad room to the corner where they'd tucked him and the other mystery patient.

Tony shifted again, letting out the pained grunt as he slid back down until he was on his back again. Immediately, the burning in his chest subsided. Steve arched a brow, glancing at the curtain, then back to Tony. He grinned, chuckling as he eyed the curtain again.

"Curious?" he tilted his head as he spoke, indicating the other bed. Tony snorted.

His pleasant tone meant it wasn't one of them. Which was good, but begged the question: Who, exactly, was important enough to land themselves a bed at the Avengers Mansion?

"Yes," Tony ground out hastily, when Steve gave him a concerned look. Looks like that meant longer in Medical then he liked.

The other Avenger hesitated a moment, studying him carefully. When Tony gave no signs that he was about to suddenly die, the blonde man shrugged, and reached out to tug the curtain out of the way.

Ignoring the burning in his chest, Tony pushed himself up on his elbow, casting a disbelieving look between his team mate, and the man on the bed.

"... What the hell is Loki doing here?"

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><p><strong>...And apparently, I also really, really like Hurt!Loki. :3 bet you all saw that coming.<strong>

**I'll update this one ASAP. Sorry everyone who's waiting for another story- they're still coming. Just... later.**

**Reviews feed my SOUL.**


	2. Life's Little Surprises

**Thank you everyone who favorited, and put this story on Alert. Special thanks to RuinNine, Sinkme, LordxXxofxXxDorkness, merick, ****xDrEaMeRx4xEVA, alltheangelsinheaven**** for reviewing.**

**AnnaDruvez, your PMs are closed, so here's the answer to your review: Hit twice **_**in the face**_** in two minutes. :D As requested—**_**MOAR!**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Life's Little Surprises.<strong>

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><p>Steve scratched at his ear, shaking his head with a bemused look as he eyed the unconscious trickster god.<p>

"Funny story, that. See, Warbird saw you go down. Swore up and down that the..." the good captain seemed to struggle for a moment with what to call the creature. "-_thing,_" he grimaced. "Threw a person at you. As it turns out, she was right." He snorted, shaking his head. He gestured at the prone god; for the first time, Tony noticed his team mate wasn't wearing his costume.

"Long story short, it hit you in the face with Loki. _After_ hitting your face into the pavement. I don't know what Loki got hit with, but he must have been pretty banged up before taking you out, because he still hasn't woken up. Thor's out searching for whoever did this to his brother."

Tony studied Steve, taking in the pinched look around his eyes, the overly-bright smile. After a moment, he grunted, elbowing himself semi-upright once more.

"No luck, huh? Maybe it was the purple octopus thing."

Steve arched a brow, repeating, "Purple Octopus thing?"

Tony bristled, scowling up at him, "Hey now! It's a perfectly accurate description. Better then 'thing', who need I remind you is actually one of the good guys."

The Captain grimaced, "It sounds like something a five year old would say." He shook his head again, rubbing at his neck as he glanced over at Loki.

"He has a broken shoulder," Steve said suddenly, after a long moment of silence. "And a mild concussion. His left leg is in a splint, and the nails of his right hand were ripped off when we found you both, but they've healed now. It's... strange." The Captain's blue eyes were unfocused, as if he wasn't truly seeing Loki; he had the distant, absent expression of someone lost in thought. Tony gave him a moment, than cleared his throat, arching his brows when Steve frowned at him.

"It's strange," Tony prompted.

"He shouldn't be unconscious." Steve finished, fixing the unconscious god with an unexpected scowl. The Captain crossed his arms, than uncrossed them, shifting his feet. "You don't think it's a trick, do you?"

Tony eyed Loki. He snorted dismissively. "No, I don't think he's faking it. He probably pissed off the wrong person, and just ended up at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Or right time," he added, frowning, "since he hasn't woken up yet. Might have been bad if anyone else had found him. Any of his injuries from the fall?"

"The broken shoulder, and the concussion. Everything else was several hours old, even with his healing rate. Thor said it looked like his hand had been broken, but mended before we found him. I don't know how he could tell," Steve spoke quickly, cutting Tony off before he could ask, "But if he said it was broken, then I believe it."

His chest had started to burn again. Scowling, Tony scooted back down, hissing as he lay back. When Steve started towards him, he flapped a hand, waving his teammate off. " 'm fine. Just tired. Go do superhero stuff, or whatever. I'm going to sleep."

Not that he actually planned on sleep; Steve's hovering was getting on his nerves. But since it looked like he'd be relying on his teammates for the foreseeable future, plausible excuses were his friend. The Captain waved from the doorway, sliding out and closing it carefully behind him. Tony waiting several minutes before indulging in a pained groan, gritting his teeth until the throbbing pain in his chest settled to a low grade burn. He rubbed just under the incision, careful not to touch it directly. Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea...

Tony groped around above his head for the small alarm clock. Punching in an hour, he settled down, dropping the thing into the blankets by his hip.

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><p>A groan from the bed beside his woke him seven minutes before the clock. Fumbling in the blankets, he punched the alarm off, tossing it back into the blankets as he rolled over just enough to peer at Loki through the guardrails.<p>

Green eyes glared back.

"Morning sunshine. Want some help with that stick up your ass?"

Green eyes narrowed further, then widened in comical surprise. Tony watched in amusement as the trickster shot upright, froze, and clutched at his shoulder, his face going ashen.

"Whoa, take it easy. It's broken," he added, as Loki shot him a glare, "And, no, I didn't break it. Well, I guess if you're being technical, I did. But it's not entirely my fault. After all, you hit me in the face with it."

There was a tense moment, where Tony was sure the other man was going to do something stupid, like try to claw out his eyes with those newly re-grown nails. But the moment passed, and Loki seemed to deflate, closing his eyes as he slowly lay back down.

"... Your face broke my shoulder."

"Your shoulder concussed my face."

Green eyes lit up, "Nice English." A smirk played around the edges of his mouth as Loki punched the pillows into a more comfortable mound. Tony relaxed back, closing his eyes with a grin. It was good to see the asshat still living up to his nature.

"Thank you. Also, your leg's broken, so if you're planning on sneaking away once I'm asleep, you might want to rethink your supervilliany plans."

"... supervilliany? What are you, five?"

"Shut up. You mashed my brain into the back of my skull. I get to make shit up."

A chuckle.

"Asshole."

" Love you too."

Loki caught the pillow Tony threw with his face.

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><p><strong>Remember, reviews feed my <strong>_**soul**_**. And a well fed soul means healthy teet- uh, faster updates. **


	3. Asinine Assumptions

**I'm so sorry for the delay! My thirteen year old Belgian Sheppard caught something fairly nasty, and I've been taking care of him. He's getting steadily better now, but it was pretty grim for a while.**

**This is sort of a filler chapter, and it's a lot shorter then I intended, but if you'll bear with me, they'll start getting longer.**

**Thank you to everyone who added this story to Alerts, and Favourites. A special thanks to C Cawthorne, xDrEaMeRx4xEVA, three days grace luver, TheInvincibleKay (love the username, by the way!), RuinNine, alltheangelsinheaven, LordxXxofxXxDorkness, AnnaDruvez, emachelle, darkangel1992, and merick for reviewing.**

**For those without emails/closed PMs**

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**Drylae98x: Thank you! I'm thrilled you think so. I'm also terribly sorry for the wait, but I'll keep the updates coming from now on :)**

**Kage: Indeed he did. I'm so glad to hear that~ Fun is what I aim for.**

**Me: That is a most specific kind of awesome, right there. You've officially written my very favourite review of **_**all time**_**. Have some MOAR! *throws MOAR at***

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Asinine Assumptions. <strong>

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><p>"Thor, for the last time, I am <em>not<em> going to tell you. You can go away, if you're going to be such a _bear_ about it." Loki's clipped, waspish words drifted down the hall to Tony, as he returned from the walk Pepper had badgered him into taking; something stupid about fresh air being good for him, or something.

Thor's words were spoken too low for Tony to catch, a deep rumble across the otherwise empty medical ward. Loki cut Thor off,

"_No_. How I ended up as I did is my business, and none of yours. I do not need your coddling, brother."

Tony arched a brow, glancing down the hall before settling his shoulder against the wall. This, unlike the walk, sounded interesting.

Again, Thor pitched his voice too low to carry, but the tone came across clear; the god of thunder was beginning to become cross with his brother's stubbornness. Tony smirked, settling more comfortably.

Loki hissed; it was a noise of irritation, more than pain, so Tony kept his spot. The hiss was followed by a soft thunk, and an answering growl from Thor. Leaning out quickly, he chanced a look through the open door; Loki looked his normal pissy self, if somewhat differently dressed- instead of his form fitting, gold-and-green armour and cape, the trickster was decked out in a pale white, green spotted dressing gown, with a green-and-white striped stock on his right foot, and a bulky walking cast on his left leg, where the splint had been. From the doorway, Tony caught a glimpse of green boxers, and a portion of Loki's pale back. He suppressed the urge to snort, wondering who had chosen the tricksters attire, and if they'd intended it to feel like that Malfoy kid from the potter books had had his wardrobe robbed. The overall impression was very Slytherin, down to the pissy expression on Loki's too-pale face.

Thor was looking a little ticked himself; his big hands were balled at his sides, blue eyes all intent on his brother, as if by glaring at him he could force the slighter man to yield to his demands. Loki didn't look ready to yield to anything too soon.

In the two days since they'd landed in medical, the trickster had been- slowly (by Loki's standards, anyway) improving. Something seemed to be preventing him from making his normal, speedy recovery, limiting him to brief periods of freedom, followed by long periods of bed rest. His leg, which should have healed by now, was still only partially mended, and his hand- which had healed before they'd found him- was still tender, the bones far more fragile then they ought to have been.

At least according to Thor, anyway. But judging by the way Loki was cradling his hand as he glared at his brother, Tony was inclined to believe Thor's assessment. Because, even from a distance, it looked like two of Loki's knuckles were broken. Likely, he'd forgotten about the weakened bones, and struck his brother in frustration.

"Spying, now?" a voice said right in his ear.

Tony stiffened, spinning around to glare at Pepper's smirking face. The woman continued to smirk, looking distinctly unimpressed. He straightened, attempting to look offended, as if he hadn't been doing just that.

"Hardly," Tony managed after a moment, glaring at the redhead, before glancing back through the door to the siblings. "I just didn't want to go in there, and get caught in the middle of their little sibling-thing they've got going." He glanced back toward the two again, but they had quieted, looking towards the door, and the people outside it. Tony bit back a sigh, surrendering to the inevitable, and slunk inside, wishing he didn't feel quite like a child caught peeking in on something he shouldn't. With an effort, he straightened up, lifting his chin and tried to put a bit of arrogance into his walk. Hell if he was going to feel bad; if they didn't want people listening, they shouldn't talk so loudly.

Pepper's quite snort wasn't lost on him, even half way across the room.

Loki watched him as he approached, face carefully blank. But his eyes were sharp, flickering with surprise as Tony picked up his hand; the trickster shot him a look, but allowed the contact, frowning as Tony poked carefully at his hand.

The skin around the broken knuckles was bruised, hot to the touch, and swollen. He poked carefully at the first knuckle, tightening his grip to prevent Loki from yanking his hand back. The trickster hissed at him, but settled down as Tony muttered an apology.

Flipping the pale hand, he studied it for a moment, before allowing the trickster to take it back. Loki did, snatching his hand away as soon as he was able, with a rather impressive look of pissy irritation on his thin face.

"You should reframe from punching Thor until it's healed," Tony advised with mocking seriousness. Loki sneered, pulling away from his brother's reaching hand, as Thor – slow on the uptake- reached out to see for himself.

"Go to hell." The trickster spat at them both, turning on his good heel, and flouncing off to the far side of the room. He settled with all the dignity a cast-leg would allow him, his back toward them as he pointedly ignored them both.

Pepper looked between the two of them, before rolling her eyes, and, with a heavy sigh, moving to tend to the pissy villain, leaving Tony with the stunned hero. Tony stealed himself for the kicked-puppy face, grimacing as Thor looked between him, and his brother.

"Oh, stop that," Tony snapped, irrationally torn between a comforting the larger man, and leaving him to figure it out himself. "He's just pissy because he doesn't like being weak," he added, giving into the wounded-pathetic-ran-over-and-shot puppy look. Thor frowned,

"There is no dishonour in injury."

Tony stared at him. Clearly, the man didn't get it.

"Ugh. You know what? Just don't let him hurt himself next time. I'm going to lay down. You people make my head hurt."

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><p><strong>Short and sweat, but an update's an update. Reviews are love! They tell me you want me to continue~ (press the button. Press it, press eeeeeettttttt!)<strong>


	4. Asshattery and Jokes Made in Poor Taste

AN: I am so sorry for the delay. My dog, Jack, ended up much, much sicker, and we had to put him down. Shortly after my own health took a nose dive, so things have been very unpleasant my end. However, I am not abandoning this story. Come MRI's, snow, and doctor's appointments, I will keep up with this story!

Thank you everyone who reviewed, there's too many of you now to thank by name, and thank you to everyone who added this story to favourites, and alerts! Seriously, I've got over three hundred alerts on this story, it's insane. Glad everyone is liking it so much. On with the show!

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><p><strong>Chapter Four : Asshattery and Jokes Made in Poor Taste.<strong>

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><p>"I hate you."<p>

Tony paused, arching a brow. "Why hello to you too."

The trickster shot him an irritated look. "Not you, stupid. _Him._" A savage jab of his thin hand indicated the object of his loathing. Tony continued to arch his brow, looking between Loki and Thor.

"And this is news... how?"

The god sneered, making his patented bitch-face at Tony as he crossed his arms across his pale spotted hospital gown. Idly, Stark wondered if he realised how comical the action was, given his current state of dress. Or rather, undress.

The bulky cast was still on his leg, having replaced the temporary split they'd tried after the tricker's first week at the mansion infirmary. It had become clear that while Loki _acted_ like he was hot shit and capable of killing them all in their sleep, the snot didn't actually have the juice to back it up. The bone, not healed enough for his usual advanced rate of healing, had re-broken when Loki had put his weight on it.

Tony had been the one to catch him as the god had gone grey in the face, a thin, high noise of pain escaping him before he passed out in a (if he were to admit) rather impressive dead faint. Definitely one of Tony's top ten's.

X-rays had shown that Loki was healing at a decidedly mortal rate. As if to prove it, the knuckles he had broken punching Thor in the face remained broken, subtle changing the landscape of his right hand.

"He has done more then you know."

Tony started at the cold, flat reply. _Damn_, right, they'd been having a conversation. Tucking his hands in his pockets, the avenger strolled to the picture window, leaning casually against the frame beside the pissy immortal.

"...I don't suppose pancakes would make it better?"

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><p>Well. If someone had asked him earlier what he'd expected from his day, Tony would have said ... well, not this.<p>

Loki frowned at the kitchen lamp, fork full of pancakes waving through the air as he gestured with it. he hadn't actually stopped talking long enough to _eat_ any of the pancakes, but since he'd lowered himself to the 'puny mortal's' level and actually accepted Tony's admittedly random invitation, he'd count that a plus.

"- And don't ask about my children. I won't start on that. You wouldn't believe it – my daughter hates me, I have a child with eight legs, and it just – _ugh._ Earth is nice. No unexpected pregnancies. I like that. You have no idea what that's like, do you?"

He actually stopped talking long enough to eye his companion shrewdly, before dismissing the question with a snort, and continued on his rant. It had started as what Thor had been like as a child, and progressed through the crueler and crueler transgressions the thunder god had committed against his brother, growing darker and darker until Tony had been forced to actually participate in the conversation.

It turns out asking him about his children wasn't the brightest of ideas. But it sure was fascinating. He had always assumed, once he'd actually _met_ Loki, that that had been normal human exaggeration. But as it turns out, it had been remarkably close to the truth.

Loki had almost single handedly conceived a _horde_.

Which was sort of fucking awesome. Tony hadn't been able to keep form making a joke about how good he looked, after all those pregnancies. The god had been startled momentarily from his stream of rant, leaving him with the impression of Imminent Death.

Then he'd laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Laughter- real, honest-to-god laugher, not that cynical snarking he did- looked good on him. His pale eyes had brightened, and colour had bloomed in his face, making him look so friggen _alive_, and Tony had been struck with the desire to make him laugh again. He would do stupid, reckless, and highly embarrassing things, if it meant getting _that_ laughter from Loki.

He'd promptly resisted the urge to hit himself. Honestly. Loki. No, not going there. _Bad Tony. Down boy, down._ That was not a impulse he was thinking too hard on, right now.

Ohhh. Hard on.

_Oh for the love of- Grown up, already._

He knew it was bad when he was playing his role, _and_ Pepper's.

Tony had lost track of how they'd ended up on how Sif's hair had turned black (he hadn't even been aware it had been gold) but it seemed that even before his time on Earth, Loki had been good at stirring up trouble.

And then something wonderful happened.

Loki was introduced to the miracle that was pancakes.

The god finally seemed to realise there was _food_ on the end of his fork, and casually popped it in his mouth between sub-rants.

And stopped.

Tony stirred from his attentive slouch, arching both eyebrows as he leaned across the island, waving a hand in front of the frozen trickster's face.

"You okay there, sunshine?" the god didn't even twitch the nickname (where as his regular 'twitch' involved aiming the nearest blunt instrument capable of great trauma at Steve's head. Tony wasn't sure why Steve. But no one seemed to keen on asking, either.)

Loki snapped his head towards Tony, eyes wide with surprise, plate of pancakes clutched in between his hands.

"What is this?" he demanded reverently. No, seriously; it was the same damn tone fangirls everywhere used when they got to shake Steve's hand/touch him in general. Hero worship bordering on obsessive.

Tony's eyebrows crawled towards his hair line.

"Those are pancakes. Food of the angles and small children, worshipped on the alter of maple syrup and butter since the dawn of civilisation."

He wasn't sure, but he thought his tone might have given it away. Loki's expression chilled, his patented _I'm-better-then-you-and-you-know-it-and-oh-look-I-can-freeze-balls-off-with-just-my-eyes _look. Which had a certain irony, him being the god of fire, and all that.

They stared at each other over the kitchen island. Finally, Loki popped a second forkful in his mouth, dropping his chin into his hand as he eyed Tony.

"You will be making these every day." It wasn't a question. Tony smirked.

"Of course."

They returned to their conversation; Loki actually invited Tony to talk this time, which he graciously refused, settling back on his chair with a smirk as the god cradled the plate of the world's most common, from a box pancakes, and continued to tell the tale of his life (and Sif's, and Thor's, and Odin's, and who eve knew who else)

Whether either of them knew it or not, that marked the turning point; a plate of pancakes, and a long winded, well needed rant. Whether they liked it or not, the universe had just declared Loki and Tony friends.

.

.

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><p>Hazzah! There is more to come, never fear. OH BY THE WAY,<p>

The person who submits review number #100 will get a Loki/Tony (or Tony/Loki) one shot on their choice, (any rating! Up to and including M)

Have fun! :'D


	5. Humourless Laughter

**I am so sorry for how long this took. Life kicked my ass; hospitalised, temporarily partially paralysed, and six weeks on fore-arm crutches, it has been a very shitty few months. BUT! Avengers ( I haven't seen it yet, it's sold out till next week) and a nice review from **_**Nuitari Aquarius**_ **have inspired me.**

**Also, did anyone notice I changed categories? :'D**

**From this point on, I'm offering a LokiTony one shot for every hundred reviews achieved. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Humorless Laughter<strong>

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><p>"You're making pancakes."<p>

Tony damn near jumped out of his skin. Loki's quiet voice was followed by Loki; the trickster slid out of the shadows beneath the stairs, pale face stony, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"Uhh, sure?" Tony twisted around to follow him, momentarily thrown. Loki had been chipper, happy even, for the last few days. Suddenly he was all doom and gloom again. And- Stark leaned to the side, spying something dark on Loki's hand. The god caught his look, and tugged the cuff of his sweater down further, glaring at him.

"Pancakes." He repeated, and if Tony hadn't been worried, he would have observed how childish the god was acting. Not in a ... well, _childish_ way. In the same way Pepper's young niece did, when her brother took something from her. Small, hurt... Betrayed. It had been so long since he'd seen Loki look so weirdly vulnerable.

"... Okay. Pancakes it is. Any requests?" he forced a smile, moving as if to open the kitchen island's cupboard. When Loki turned to grab a stool, Tony snaked out an arm, grabbing the Trickster's wrist. Loki's green gaze snapped up, bright with venom, but he didn't pull back. Tony took it as permission to tug back the cuff of his green sweater, frowning at the dark blotches of bruises over his knuckles. He skated his thumb over the inflamed skin, hovering over the bloody scabs that closed his split knuckles.

He fixed Loki with a _look_.

"Punch Thor again?" he asked, voice artificially light.

Loki returned his _look_ with a bitch-face, finally yanking his hand away. Tony let him go, returning to his pancake preparation. Chocolate chips, blueberries, milk, a box of pancake mix (he tried making them from scratch, but Loki had demanded the other ones.) and finally, a frozen bag of peas. Loki frowned at them when Tony thrust the bag towards him. He rolled his eyes, wiggling the frozen vegetables at him until Loki rolled his eyes and grabbed it.

"For your hand," Came the belated explanation.

Loki's brows went up, then came down again in a scowl, but he snagged a dish towel and wrapped the peas in it, resting his hand on top. Tony didn't miss the flinch, but chose not to comment, instead dumping ingredients into a bowl. The fork scraped along the glass as he stirred, both of them not looking at the other.

"A wall." Loki spoke after several minutes of silence.

Tony arched a brow. Where they having a conversation?" Come again?"

"I punched a wall."

_Oooh, right._ Apparently they were.

He stirred the pancakes a few more times, then set the set down the bowl, leaning a hip on the counter to give Loki another _look_.

"And you were punching holes in my walls... why?"

Yet another bitch-face. Loki poked the bag of peas with his free hand, lips twitching as if he wanted to smile, rather than scowl.

Tony got half way through the pancakes before Loki answered.

"I was frustrated." As explanations went, it wasn't a good one. Tony's face must have said as much, because Loki rolled his eyes, sighing gustily before dropping his chin onto his uninjured hand.

"I... am not used to being weak." His face twisted as he spoke, like the words had a bitter taste, but he was reluctant to speak them. Loki met his eyes, green gaze trepid. His eyes darted away, wandering over the kitchen cupboards, the fridge, then the windows.

"I hate being mortal. You're all so frail." He muttered to the sunshine.

Tony's eyebrows crawled up his face. Well that was different. He wasn't sure what he had expected- Okay, that's a lie, he knew exactly what he had expected. Snark. Sarcasm. Something with a bit of bite behind it. Not this weird forlornness, the strange vulnerability.

Tony flicked off the gas, moving the frying pan off the heat, and flipped a couple of pancakes onto two plates, drizzling syrup over one, and soaking the other in it. Forks and knives went down beside it, then it went in front Loki. Tony dragged a stool over form the breakfast bar, and sat across from him.

"Okay. So you're injured, and you hate it. Well." He cut himself a piece of pancake, popping it in his mouth and chewed pointedly, staring at Loki. He kept staring, unblinkingly, until the god took a bite.

Pancakes seemed to sooth Loki's rumpled feathers; he ate like a petulant eight year old, cutting noisily against the plate, knife scraping against the plate in the most _aggravating_ manner possible. But Tony let it go, because Loki needed to be pissed, and angry so he didn't need to feel weak and vulnerable.

They ate in silence, and after they were done Tony took Loki to get something other then that ugly green sweater that Pepper had found in some closet somewhere. Because _honestly;_ walking cast or not, clothes made everyone feel better.

* * *

><p>"No, not that one."<p>

Loki cast him a sharp look, fingering the green shirt. "Why not?"

"Because you'll look like you belong to the Slytherin house at Hogwarts."

"I was around before Harry Potter." The god's tone was arrogant, but there was a smile playing around the edges of his mouth. Tony bumped his arm, grinning.

"something less silver gold and green. Why not... blue."

There. Blue shirt spotted. Tony made a B-line through the clothing racks, lifting it with a triumphant smile. "This," he informed the bemused immortal, "Is what you are getting. And you will put it on. And then I will buy you ice cream."

Loki snagged the shirt, limping past him. "Double scoop gelato. With a waffle cone. And sprinkles."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>Tony leaned against the wall length mirror, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on so he could watch people in that creepy, solid-sunglasses-so-you-can't-see-their-eyes way. He tossed a few more shirts at the trickster god, <em>other<em> colours (like white. And black. Honestly, his obsession with green was absurd. Although, it _did_ look good on him. _No. Bad Tony. Bad._)

"I am... surprised."

Tony jerked off the wall, spinning towards Loki in as guilty a manner as possible (it wasn't like he did that on purpose, or anything. Just. You know.)

...

He brain might have shorted. Tony remembered after half a minute he was suppose to be saying something.

"...Damn."

_Bad Tony, bad!_

He was so screwed.

* * *

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